


the quiet things (that no-one ever knows)

by itainthardtryin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Heavy Angst, please share my pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itainthardtryin/pseuds/itainthardtryin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke feels all five stages of grief, not necessarily in the right order, and not necessarily one at a time. But 24 hours later, Murphy tells her "I know how much she meant to you" - and he really does. </p>
<p>Alternatively - the conversations Clarke has with Murphy about Lexa when they're stuck in the room together for 24 hours. </p>
<p>(heavy angst & trigger warning for brief talk of suicide)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the quiet things (that no-one ever knows)

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavy angst, you can't say I haven't warned you. Also, I just want to mention again that there's talk of suicide in one part and if that's triggering to you, please keep yourself safe.

The first thing he feels is pure anger, quickly followed by pain in his knuckles where he's been banging so hard on the door. " _ HEY _ !" Murphy shouts. "YOU CAN'T KEEP US IN HERE!" He rattles the door again, but it remains firmly locked. Rage takes over his whole body as he thinks back to the bunker and there is no way this is happening again. He screams, and screams, never saying words but just letting the anger release from his body in the only way he knows how. After a few minutes, he starts to tire, and there's the slow realization that actually, yes, it's happening again. 

He gives the door a few last shakes, and pounds on the wood with his fists again, but there’s  no sound on the other side. The fight leaves him as he realizes he's well and truly locked in this room. 

But at least this time he has Clarke. 

He turns to talk to her but when he does he sees her standing in precisely the same spot he left her, eyes still locked to the blood covered furs on the bed. He approaches her slowly. 

"Clarke?" he says softly. "Hey, Clarke."

He's barely a meter away from her but she doesn't even register his presence. He studies her and what he sees makes him uncomfortable. She looks so lost, and so empty, and it's not the Clarke he used to know - the one who'd always have a plan, the one who'd be trying to get them out of here, the one who directed situations. 

But Clarke right now, he knows, is just a teenager who's lost the girl she loved. Maybe the weight of this world has finally taken its toll on her, Murphy thinks. Maybe this is the final straw. 

"Clarke," he whispers, reaching out cautiously to gently touch her arm. The contact wakes her up but she doesn't even acknowledge him, instead, she marches over to the door and tries exactly the same tactic Murphy had only moments before. 

Murphy can hear her crying, can hear her muffled sobs underneath the noise of the door rattling and the deep pounding of Clarke's fists on the wood. He doesn't know what to do, so he lets her exhaust herself because he knows it won't take long. 

She lasts longer than he did, fueled by her grief and her loss, but eventually the anger subsides and she gives in to the tears. She leans forward, resting her head on the door and cries. 

She cries, and cries, and cries. 

Only when her tears start to become hysteric does Murphy intervene. 

Clarke is gasping for breath, and Murphy rests his hands on her cheeks, getting her to look at him. "Hey," he says, "You need to breathe for me," Clarke's chest is still heaving with the need for air, but she can't stop herself from crying. If she keeps going like this Murphy's going to watch her pass out, and being held prisoner is bad enough without having an unconscious body in the room.

"Not her-" she chokes out in ragged breaths. "I- She was- We just-" 

"Clarke, I need you to breathe," Murphy tells her, looking straight into her eyes, but he can see that Clarke is looking right through him. 

It's only when Clarke starts to cough so much that Murphy thinks she might actually throw up, that her breathing starts to slow. The shock of almost being sick must have brought her back to reality, and now both Clarke and Murphy are on the floor, Clarke looking at him with wide eyes as she tries to calm herself down. 

She never takes her eyes from Murphy, matching her breaths with his own. Her eyes are completely bloodshot and Murphy thinks maybe this is what he looked like after those three months in the bunker. But it's been fifteen minutes, and Clarke's already in this state, and that's the first indication Murphy gets of just how deep Clarke's love for Lexa runs. 

 

//

 

"Clarke, stop pacing, you're going to leave a dent in the floor." 

He has no way of telling how long she's been walking up and down the room but it feels like hours. 

"Sorry," Clarke says, her voice small. She wanders over to the window, looks outside briefly, and then sits down on the floor with her back to the wall. Her gaze fixes on the bed, and 

Murphy sees her swallow away her feelings. 

He sighs. "Do you want to talk about her?" He doesn't even know why he asks. The whole situation has left him feeling so uneasy, and he's not one to talk about feelings, but he can almost feel the pain radiating off Clarke, and his curiosity gets the better of him. 

Clarke shakes her head as if she’s rejecting the pain. "I’m in love with her,” Clarke admits, and the present tense makes Murphy flinch. “I don’t even know what we were. We didn’t even talk about it. If she felt-" 

Murphy frowns. "Clarke, you'd be pretty dumb to not know that she loved you." 

The words makes Clarke look at him. "We never said it. I didn't  _ tell her _ ," Clarke says, and Murphy thinks she's going to cry. Her eyes gloss over with tears but she never lets them fall. "She was going to tell me, I think." 

"She knew," Murphy tells her, because he saw it. It was written all over Lexa's face. He didn't even know her but it was so plainly written on every inch of her that she felt Clarke’s love, and every word Lexa said was filled with her own. 

"I spent so long just being... mad at her," Clarke continues. 

Murphy laughs. "Now that is a concept I can understand." 

"My heart kept saying not yet. I thought we had time." 

"Don't we all," Murphy scoffs. "If you ask me, some people have too much of it." 

"She deserved all of it," Clarke admits in a whisper. 

"Yeah, well, maybe it's for the best," he says, and Murphy hates how Clarke’s body physically recoils at the thought. He quickly adds, "She suffered less." 

Murphy notes a change in Clarke's emotions, and he thinks maybe she's thinking about how much they've all had so suffer since they came crashing to the ground. He thought The Ark was bad, but Earth is fucking terrible. 

Suddenly, recognition sparks in Clarke's eyes. "You know about the AI," she says in wonder. "Tell me about it." 

He laughs again but it's bitter this time. "It's some shit Jaha's been preaching. The City of Light. A place where there's no death, no suffering, everyone lives forever," he says mockingly. 

"Sounds like complete crap if you ask me." He can tell that Clarke doesn't feel the same way.

"Do you think she's there?" Clarke asks. "In the City of Light, I mean?"

He can see the absolute hope in her eyes, and as much as he thinks Jaha's new reality is complete bullshit, he can't take away that spark in Clarke's eyes. It's the first time she's looked anything close to alive since Titus carried Lexa's body out. 

"I guess that's how it works," he says, thinking of everything Jaha's told him. "If you've taken the chip, then your soul's already there. Your body is just a vessel."

"She's still alive," Clarke says, to herself more than anyone else. 

"Clarke," Murphy warns. "Clarke, she's not coming back." 

"She doesn't  _ need _ to come back," Clarke explains. "I just need to go  _ find her. _ " Murphy isn't one for all this emotional bullshit, but he can't help but feel a little something for Clarke when he hears the desperation in her voice.

"Look, I don't get the whole thing, but I don't think it's that simple, Clarke." He tries to make her understand. 

"Nothing worth having is simple, Murphy." 

He shakes his head and exhales in frustration because he is just  _ not  _ getting through to her. But even in his complete disregard for the AI, he admires how devoted Clarke is. Even death won't stop her from trying to get to her love. 

 

//

 

Murphy thinks it's maybe just before dawn when he wakes to the sound of Clarke crying. She's moved from the window to beside the bed. It's dark, but he can make out that she's sitting with her back to him, cross legged on the floor. She's facing the bed and is grasping the bottom of the furs in her hands. 

He doesn't dare move. This is Clarke's moment. Clarke thinks he's asleep. He's not supposed to be witness to this. 

As he shakes off the last reminders of sleep and wakes up fully he realizes that Clarke's not only crying but she's talking. It takes a moment for Murphy to be able to make out anything she's saying, but when he does, he wishes he'd stayed asleep. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Clarke cries. Her voice is a whisper and Murphy's never heard anyone sound so broken before. "It should have been me," she whispers, "It was never meant to be you. It was my fault, this is all my fault." 

Murphy wants to comfort her, to tell her that it was Titus, not her, that killed Lexa, but he also thinks it's the worst possible thing he could do right now. 

"I loved you," she chokes. "I  _ love  _ you." 

Murphy closes his eyes and desperately tries to ignore all the words pouring from Clarke’s heart.    
  


//

 

He doesn't remember drifting off for a second time but he wakes suddenly to the sound of gunshots and sleep is forgotten.

Another shot, and Murphy is on his feet. "Clarke! What are you doing?!" he half shouts. Her eyes are narrow and her jaw is set. She's so focused he doesn't think she even heard him. 

"Clarke, if they hear you shooting they'll come back up here and kill us," Murphy pleads as he watches Clarke fire again at the lock on the door. 

She walks towards it and shakes the door violently, but it still holds fast. She’s about to shoot again when Murphy decides to raise his voice. "CLARKE, YOU'RE GOING TO GET US  _ KILLED _ !" 

It works, and the fight visibly drains from her body. The gun is still in her hand, dangling at her side. She looks him dead in the eye. "I'm just trying to get us out of here." 

"Look, I don't need to remind you what happened the last time someone starting firing a gun in this room," Murphy says. Clarke's eyes harden, and she raises the gun towards him. "Hey, hey, woah, Clarke, take it easy. Put the gun down. I just don't want anyone else to die." 

Clarke laughs and lowers her aim. "It would be so easy though." Her voice is low and contemplative and Murphy doesn't like it. "Do you know how tiring it is to have everyone want you dead? The  _ great Wanheda _ , commander of death, hunted by everyone." She's talking to herself as much as she is Murphy. "The only person who ever seen the value in my life rather than my death is gone, so where does that leave me?"

She raises the gun to her temple and rests it against the skin there. Murphy feels his heart race. They're not close, they're barely friends, but he still doesn't want her to die. Especially not like this. "Clarke, put the gun down," he says slowly. 

"All I have to do is find her. You said there's no pain in the City of Light," Clarke cries. Pain is written all over her face.

"You haven't taken the chip, Clarke, if you blow your brains out then that's it. Game over." 

“What’s left for me here?” It sounds so final, and for a split second he thinks she’s actually going to do it. 

“Lexa wouldn’t want you to do this,” Murphy tells her because, even from the limited things he knows about her, he knows it’s the truth.

Clarke knows it too, and her grip loosens on the gun, until it drops freely to the ground by her side. She stands there, chest heaving, tears running down her cheeks. She looks like a child and Murphy remembers just how  _ young  _ they all are. No-one should be going through this ever, but especially not at their age. They’re just  _ kids _ . 

He scrambles forward and takes the gun, putting it out of Clarke’s reach. “Congratulations, you’ve hit rock bottom, it’s only up from here,” he says. He fails to mention that  _ up _ doesn’t always mean  _ good _ but he figures that this life is probably still better than the alternative. 

 

//

 

A new day dawns, and he’s absolutely  _ sick _ of being in here. They’ve both tried the door a few more times, and Murphy’s considered the window more than once, but he knows he can’t leave Clarke after everything they’ve been through in this room. 

“I kissed her,” Clarke says into the silence between them. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since either of them last spoke. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I was there, remember? I saw it.” 

“No,  _ before _ she-” Clarke chokes on the words. “She was going to let me leave without ever asking for more.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“If I’d just left then… If I hadn’t kissed her,” Clarke starts. “Octavia and I would be on our way back to Arkadia right now, and Lexa-” It’s the first time Clarke’s said her name since, and it catches on her tongue overwhelming her. Murphy sees her hold back tears yet again. He didn’t know it was possible for someone to cry this much in a day. “She was going to let me go, and if I’d just left when I said I would…” 

“Clarke-” 

“I just couldn’t leave without kissing her,” she says. “I thought it might have been the only chance we ever had,” Clarke whispers. “And it got her  _ killed _ .” 

“Would it have been better if you went back to Arkadia and she’d died before you got back to Polis?”

“But she wouldn’t have-” 

“Clarke, Grounders are  _ insane _ . That Titus guy? He clearly has a complex. Ice Nation want her head,” he says. “Don’t you think she’d have  _ wanted _ it to be this way?”

Clarke takes a moment and he can see her really taking the words in, contemplating them. “If it was me, I’d have wanted her by my side.” 

“She had you right until the end, Clarke,” he reminds her. “As far as deaths go, having the love of your life kiss you seconds before your final breath is a pretty fucking good one.” 

Clarke nods, and Murphy catches her eyes quickly dart over to the blood covered furs. “Thank you,” she says quietly. 

“Any time,” he says, probably too harshly. He wonders how many more times he’s going to have to talk about this before they get out of this god forsaken room. 

 

//

 

He’s getting hungry, and he can hear unrest in the streets below. Something’s  _ happening _ down there and he’s sure that he and Clarke are  _ definitely _ the last priority now. He’s lying on the bed, just waiting it out.

“The Conclave must be starting,” Clarke says from the window. Murphy jumps up and makes his way over to have a look for himself. 

“You see anything?” He asks Clarke but she doesn’t reply. “Come on, what? Bunch of grounders fighting to the death to see who gets an AI built in their brain, that doesn’t sound fun to you?

Clarke ignores him and looks at the bed for what feels like the millionth time, but she doesn’t cry. Her face screws up in pain but the tears never come. She makes her way to the door and shakes it again, even though both she and Murphy both know that it’s pointless. 

And they’re right back where they started. “Hey,” he says walking over to her. “Clarke.” 

He steps closer even though Clarke keeps her back to him. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he doesn’t really understand why he’s saying it after all this time, but the universe isn’t going to apologize to Clarke for all of this, so someone may as well.  “I know how much she meant to you.” 

And he does. He really does. 

“This has nothing to do with me,” Clarke replies. When she turns round, Murphy notices a change in her. A fire in her eyes. She walks toward him with purpose. “We need to make sure that Aden wins.” 

And there’s the Clarke he knows. He’s just about to reply when the door clicks and swings open. As soon as it does, he feels the atmosphere in the room shift. The confessions whispered to him in the dark feel like lifetimes ago, and without the lock on the door, the words feel vulnerable. 

They leave his mind quickly when Titus enters the room. 

But he never forgets them. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is @hartooo and my ask is always open for you to share your pain, so please drop by!


End file.
